


the unease of surrounded seclusion

by cosmicpoet



Series: momoharu week 2018 [6]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst, Depression, F/M, Memories, Post Chapter-Five
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 12:08:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14308314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicpoet/pseuds/cosmicpoet
Summary: After Momota's death, Harukawa can't move from outside his bedroom. How can she possibly continue to live on without him?





	the unease of surrounded seclusion

Harukawa is no longer fearful. She has been fearful, she _was_ fearful, when she saw Momota coughing blood and trying to make everyone smile whilst the life was seeping out of him like poison draining into all of their bodies, drip by drip. And she had to watch him die – she wishes she could hate him for that, the way he smiled as he was unfairly shot up into orbit, coughing and burning, his whole body sweating; she was forced to _watch,_ and it shattered her heart.

With no heart left to feel fear, or love, or anything at all, all that remains is a void of hopelessness. Fear – past tense. Hopelessness, forever, past and present and future tense, overarching in every aspect of her life. It chokes her, the way she misses him more than anyone else; she can’t come to terms with the fact that she will never see his smile again, never again train with him under the canopy of flowers.

In her mind, she exists in a time wherein he’s still alive, sweet faux-memories taunting her with how he could have kissed her in the palest of moonlight, and it burns her shattered heart to think that his timeline was so abruptly stopped only hours ago. She’s terrified – not the primal fear she felt when she held out her knife, protecting a dying man – but the hopeless terror of reaching tomorrow. When the moonlight, under which he will no longer speak softly to her, wanes back into the dawn, the world will crown its first day without Momota, and she cannot bear to live in such a world.

Steadfast, she remains outside his bedroom door, clutching her knees to her chest and sobbing. Of course, she should train with Saihara, she should take on Momota’s dead role, but she simply cannot. All she can think now is how much he changed her. When she used to lie about who she was, he comforted her, motivated her. And then Ouma barrelled in and whirl-winded Momota to his death; it sickens her to think of how he lied, just like she used to lie, all throughout the trial, manipulated by a dead man. And how she, for a few, fruitless moments, had tried to motivate the group to save him back when there was a chance of saving him.

He has affected her even now, she thinks.

But his bedroom aches with the loneliness of silence. There are still people in the Ultimate Academy, but they’re all ghosts now, and she couldn’t care for a single one of them. Let the whole thing burn, damn it all to hell, because Harukawa no longer feels a single thing except hopelessness. Hopelessness without Momota.

Her tears wet her shirt as she buries her face down, and she makes no attempt to wipe them away – they’re _real,_ they’re tangible, and they’re caused by Momota. He still has a presence in her life, and she feels him in every saltwater heartbreak that curls down her cheeks and pains her broken heart.

Even only in her imagination, she feels him around her. There’s something beautiful about thinking that he’s still with her, holding her, trying his best in some liminal afterlife to wipe away her tears.

“I…I miss you,” she chokes out to the air around her. No reply.

But still, something in her mind tells her that, were Momota able to talk to her, he would tell her to keep her chin up, keep living on, _for him._

It’s almost as if he’s wrapped his hands around her heart and he’s squeezing each broken piece, bit by bit, back into the wrong place. His afterlife intentions are good, but she can’t fathom possibly living on without him. Momentarily, she considers joining him in death, breaking her own fragile body and rising up to be with Momota in the stars, finally transcending her aching, tragic life to spend eternity in his arms.

These…as much as she loves them, are just fantasies. The harsh reality is that she is alive, and he is dead. _Dead._ Cold, dead, with no hope of bringing him back. That’s why she’s hopeless, because the whole force of hope in her life has been ripped from her.

Her tears, slowly, subside. Still, she feels his presence, holding her, fixing her in her place outside his bedroom. She cannot move. She cannot _feel._

But they’ve all lost so much. Amami…Akamatsu…Hoshi…Toujou…Yonaga…Chabashira…Shinguji…Iruma…Gokuhara…Ouma…and now…

And after everything before this, Momota was always there for everyone. Bringing them together, training them, training their bodies and their hearts, reminding them that a life outside of the Ultimate Academy is possible. Even though he will never experience that life, never feel the fresh air on his face, never get to space in the beauty and wonder of which he expected, never love her in every eternity and lifetime…she has a responsibility to carry on for him. Like Akamatsu passed her wish onto Saihara, Harukawa must take on Momota’s role.

It’s what he’d want. It’s what he _needs._

Because Momota’s body may have crumbled into stardust, but his memory still burns bright in her heart. And remembering him strikes gold radiance into her whole body, not quite mending her heart, but bringing each broken piece closer together. Slowly, she stands up, and chokes on the remnants of her tears as she imagines his arms falling from her, leaving her alone in this harsh, cold world.

She makes her way to the same place they used to train. When she meets Saihara, she looks him dead in the eyes. Although she seems collected on the outside, she’ll never admit that she’s cried herself half to death already, and now she has to be strong for Saihara.

“Get it together,” she says, sternly, defaulting back into her cold persona before realising that’s not what Momota would want, “you’ll be okay.”

“I…Harukawa…he’s…”

“I know,” she replies, putting a hand on his shoulder, “I know. But look up, Saihara. See those stars. He’s up there, forever. I have to believe that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this! Sorry it's so sad, haha. Written for Day Six of Momoharu Week 2018, the prompt was 'Fears'.
> 
> Title from 'Smiling at Strangers on Trains' cover by Frank Turner.


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